


Spring of Love Resembleth

by Serpenscript



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Family Planning, Guilt, Infertility, Infidelity, Motorcycle Sex, Outdoor Sex, Pregnancy, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Torture, mentions of child abuse, sex in the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpenscript/pseuds/Serpenscript
Summary: When James is unable to father a child, Lily turns to another source.





	Spring of Love Resembleth

**"O, how this spring of love resembleth  
The uncertain glory of an April day;  
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,  
And by and by a cloud takes all away."**

_The Two Gentlemen of Verona (I, iii, 84-87)_

Lily is the first to fall to the irrepressible urge to start a family, exclaiming over every baby she sees and looking after them in longing as their harried parents continue on their way. She lingers in front of the stores where brightly colored baby clothes are on display, and sighs over the magical baby toys. Then she starts buying magazines, getting subscriptions to magical and muggle clothing chains specializing in baby clothing; she leaves them scattered through their house in Godric's Hollow for James to find, open to bright centerfolds of innocently sleeping cherubs and laughing, rosy-cheeked darlings.

At first James is resistant, but eventually even he succumbs to the plea in his wife's green eyes. He begins to dream of black haired babies with his wife's eyes and her sweet smile, and his own skills on a broom, a son to carry on the Potter name (a proud pureblood heritage, one he's still proud of and refuses to deny, though he married a muggle-born; _his_ children will have the best of both worlds, he thinks). He even dreams a bit wistfully of a daughter, with Lily's curls and temper.

They start planning a family in the spring, when the air is crisp and invigorating and the world is full of new life. Lily brings home pamphlets on things like ovulation schedules and vitamin potions, and their meals contain more of the vegetables James hates - spinach and broccoli and cauliflower. It baffles James to some extent; he'd been under the impression that family planning merely consisted of copious amounts of sex. Thankfully, it _includes_ plenty of sex, so he reckons he can tolerate the green leafy stuff.

Spring passes to summer, to fall, to winter, and then to spring again, and Lily still hasn't conceived. She has herself examined, and the mediwizards can't find anything wrong with her; she is in perfect health and at peak fertility.

It takes a combination of bribery and threats to get James to submit to a full exam, and he fills out a disturbingly long and complete questionnaire about his health and sex life. Then he stoically sits through an uncomfortable visit where they thoroughly poke and prod his penis and testicles (and he doesn't flinch at all when they use a wicked-looking needle to extract samples from his bits, though he turns every bit as pale as Nearly Headless Nick).

When the mediwizards inform them the problem is a low viable sperm count, most likely due to a curse in his work as an Auror, he presses his lips together and stares at the wall. "We're sorry," a mediwitch tells them helplessly, "there's no treatment for something like this. It just happens sometimes. Keep having frequent intercourse, there is still a very slim chance to conceive. Or you could look into other options. There are many orphans of the war - " James can't stand the pity in her voice. He Apparates out, leaving Lily to apologise for his rudeness.

When Lily makes it home, she can _hear_ him before she sees him. She finds him in the nursery, the children's room they'd so carefully prepared. He's casting hex after hex, reducing the antique crib to splinters, setting afire the sky-blue curtains with their fluttering gold snitches. She has to _Petrificus_ him to stop him and when she walks around to face him, she's horrified to see tears streaming down his face.

"Shhh, James, it's OK," she whispers, and when she unfreezes him he crumples into her arms and sobs. He sobs until he struggles to breathe, and finally she slaps him, desperate to break him out of his pity. "Don't you dare give up!" she tells him, fire in her voice, and when he stares at her woefully, she shakes him like a small boy. "There's still a chance! Don't you _dare_ give up on our children, James Potter!"

It takes several hours - and a few pints of firewhiskey - to calm him down and get him tucked into bed that night. By morning, he's red eyed, but he pretends the visit to St. Mungo's never happened. She lets him harbor the illusion, and neither of them speak of it.

They have sex so often and so desperately that sometimes she wonders why she isn't walking funny, but by the time spring rolls around again, she still hasn't conceived. James pretends it's fine and they weren't really trying to start a family; but she sees the way he avoids the empty nursery, and the way his jaw clenches every time a friend or coworker announces a pregnancy or new birth.

He starts spending more time working out at the gym or in extra auror training after hours, coming home with an air of desperation. He eats grimly, as if a perfectly balanced diet will suddenly make him the epitome of virility. He goes out of his way to avoid Molly and Arthur Weasley (blessed with a sea of redheaded children), and starts coming home drunk and smelling like firewhisky. He smiles less and laughs rarely, and though he blames it on the war they're fighting, she knows it's more than that. Even the sex becomes rote, each movement dull with familiarity, until she can't remember when her last orgasm was. Foreplay is all but abandoned; it's not necessary for _him_ to ejaculate. She pretends it doesn't bother her, but it does; she feels vaguely used, and sometimes at night she wonders what it would be like if the problem lay with her. She wonders if he would divorce her for being unable to bear him a child, and feels guilty for contemplating it.

She looks at the silent, cynical man sitting across from her every morning, and she sees a man afraid of his mortality, incapable of fathering a child to carry on his name if he dies. His vital spark, the joy for life that she loves him for, is gone.

"You've got to help me have a baby, Sirius. James is - I don't know what to do! He tried to destroy the nursery again last night. He almost burnt the house down!"

Sirius stares at her for a long, awkward minute before shaking his head. "You asked James if his best friend could father your baby?"

"NO! I mean, you can't tell him. He has to believe it's his. He won't even consider adoption. But it's tearing him apart, I know it is. Stupid, _stupid_ male pride!" But she knows it's more than that. "He thinks he's less of a man if he can't father his own child."

Sirius looks enough like James that his son could pass as James', she thinks. They're similar in build and complexion, they have similar square jaws and messy black hair. Any other discrepancies she could blame on her own muggle genetics (somewhere, she's sure, there's an Evans with eyes grey like Sirius'). They don't teach genetics in the wizarding world (which explains so much of the pureblood inbreeding, and it's a wonder they haven't bred themselves _all_ into madness or stupidity....the fact they've survived at all is entirely due to muggle-born and muggles marrying in).

He paces while he considers her request, running hands through his too-long hair before turning a look of frustration on her. "I can't, Lily. Even if I thought it was right, there are spells to keep fidelity."

She remembers, vaguely, discussing that with James before their wedding. He'd wanted to use his grandmother's wedding ring, but its enchanted to punish infidelity. It would only come off if her husband died or legally divorced her. She'd hated the idea, and hated the _ring_ , which was so old the floral pattern circling the band was all but obliterated. She'd wanted to pick out a nice new ring, one she'd be proud to pass on down to a daughter. But in the end she'd given in to James and accepted his grandmother's ring; at the time, she thought nothing could induce her to cheat on him.

She tells herself it's not cheating; she's doing it to _save_ James. But Sirius looks so distressed she lets the subject drop.

A week later, James ends up in St Mungo's; Sirius meets Lily in the hallway there. Through the open doorway he can see James, battered and bandaged and heavily sedated. "What happened?" he asks tightly, "James wasn't even on call tonight!"

Lily breaks down, leaning against the wall and shaking; she can't bear to see her husband lying there. She feels like she doesn't know him anymore; as if the James who chased her through Hogwarts, desperate for her attention and affection, died in the mediwitch's office. "He wasn't supposed to," she sobs, "but he heard a call for help and decided to take the call. He didn't even get backup, Sirius, it was almost like he was hoping he'd die!"

Sirius remembers the bitter, hopeless look in his friend's eyes earlier that day, and thinks it all too likely. "He had a bad day," he says though, "Arthur announced that Molly was carrying _twins_."

"I don't care! That makes it worse!" She slides down the wall until she's sitting, and presses her face to her knees. "It makes it worse," she repeats, "he should value his life _more_ , because he can't leave me a son."

They're in a hallway in a public hospital, so Sirius can't hold her like he wants to, not with her husband in the next room and monitoring spells beeping through the open door, and the mediwitch looking between the two of them suspiciously. But he decides then to help Lily, no matter what she needs.

*** * * * ***

They agree, from the start, they won't use phrases like _making love_ , because it has nothing to do with love. Not for each other, not in _that_ way, at least. It was just sex, just fucking. Sirius acts cocky, but Lily knows it's just bravado, to hide his nerves. "I know it's tempting, but don't fall in love with me," he smirks.

She laughs at him; his attempts at romance are legendary disasters. "Be serious, Sirius!" she teases, and dodges his mock-punch. "You're too wild and arrogant to fall in love with," she adds, with an irrepressible grin of her own (he can't remember the last time he saw her smile like that, so openly).

As it is, their first attempt is a disaster. They're both nervous; Sirius can't maintain his erection (much to his embarrassment), and Lily jumps at every noise. More than that, Sirius _feels_ wrong to her; he's taller than James but thinner, wiry-lean where James is solid. He has less body hair than James too; a sparse scattering of dark hair on his chest. His cock, though, is noticeably longer and slightly thicker than James', with a distinctive curve to it. The head is more flared and she can't help imagining how _different_ it will feel inside her.

While she studies him Sirius takes the time to study her. It's the first time he's seen her without clothing, and he has to forcibly remind himself that this is his best mate's wife. She's a vision, he thinks; clear, creamy skin with a scattering of freckles across her nose and shoulders. Her face he's memorised before; the impossibly bright green eyes framed with long dark lashes, the full-bow lips and petite nose. The long red hair falling in waves over her shoulders is silky-soft, when he combs his fingers through it.

Her breasts are high and full, and with delight he finds they fit perfectly in his palms the way he imagined they would; he wants to bury his face in them and lick and suck on them, teasing the rosy nipples to hardness. For a moment he contemplates doing just that, but then a floorboard creaks and Lily jumps, and the moment is lost.

"I didn't used to be this jumpy," she says crossly, after the fourth loud noise. "I used to be afraid of nothing when James and I were dating; what happened to my Gryffindor courage?"

Sirius sighs and slouches against the wall. "The stakes were never as high back then. What do you think James would do, if he found out?"

"He'd never forgive me." It would shatter him, she knows. But she's afraid he'll shatter anyway. She remembers the haunted look on his face when he'd woken in St Mungo's. "But I have to try, anyway."

They decide to share their fantasies, in hopes of overcoming Sirius' performance anxiety. Lily gives her first blowjob ever, and it's on her knees in the garage while Sirius leans back on his motorcycle. He'd always fantasized about that as a student, leaning back and looking _cool_ on the seat of a gleaming motorcycle while some pretty bird kneels naked between his thighs and sucks him off. The reality is even better; he feels every inch a man when he looks down and sees _her_ lips stretched around his shaft, red wet tongue flicking experimentally and green eyes watching him, measuring every reaction. It's almost enough for him to lose control, but he remembers she's never done this so he's careful to keep his hips still, letting her manage how deep she swallows. She's hesitant and unsure and he's more masterful with his own hand, but it's the best blowjob he's ever had.

He keeps that memory in mind the first time he fucks her, on the kitchen table (he thinks it is only fair to make one of _her_ fantasies come true, though he doesn't quite understand the appeal of a kitchen table and assumes it's a women-thing). He has no trouble maintaining an erection as he presses open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat; he enthusiastically presses his face to her breasts and licks them, alternating his agile tongue and long fingers to tease her nipples - they're delightfully sensitive and the sounds she makes go straight to his cock. By the time he kisses his way down her stomach and trails a finger down the cleft of her nether lips she's wet and arching into his touch.

"Sirius," she begs, and he uses his fingers to spread her open. Her breathless voice becomes a squeal when he presses his mouth to her slick folds and licks between them, delving into her depths before flickering teasingly over her bud until her thighs tremble. Then he lifts her legs to his shoulders, positions himself, and slides home. For a moment he freezes, unable to move, unable to _think_ ; he's afraid he'll embarrass himself and come too soon.

Then Lily _squeezes_ around him, and her heels press into his back, and instinct takes over. She feels perfect; he's slept with a variety of women, but none of them feel so divine to him or fit him so perfectly as Lily does. She meets his thrusts with movement of her own, and her breathy cries of pleasure echo every snap of his hips.

Too soon he feels his impending orgasm, and slips a hand between them, searching out her clit and rubbing his thumb over it, exulting when her voice changes pitch and her orgasm tears through her; the contractions around his shaft push him over the edge - and that's the first time the fidelity curse activates. He's in the midst of a shattering orgasm when her ring grows hot around her finger and his shouted " _Lily!_ " becomes a cry of agony.

She's horrified when he slips free of her and drops to his knees, clawing at his shoulders, and his back is - shredded. Lacerated by some kind of cutting curse - Diffindo, maybe.

Together they get his shirt off and heal the cuts, but they leave new pink scars across his back. Then it takes a dozen healings to age the scars, and the scars fade from newly-raw-pink to white. They're both exhausted, and Lily wearily summons a blood-replenishing potion for Sirius while he pulls his shirt back on. The blood is drying, darkening to an ominous crimson and stiffening the fabric. He covers it up with his leather jacket, but it doesn't hide his wince when the movement pulls the newly-healed skin.

She takes a shaky breath. "We can't do that again."

He laughs, though it's barking and cynical. "Why not? We've already done the worst, and now we know what your wedding ring does."

"But it _hurt_ you!"

"We knew the Fidelity curse would try to punish me, and I still agreed. You're right, James is tearing himself up about this, and what kind of best mate would I be if I didn't help?" He grins, and his smile is twisted. "Besides, it's nothing compared to Ma Black on a bad day." He sobers, and meets her eyes, the green eyes James adores so much. "We've betrayed him this much already. Lils, we ought to at least make it worthwhile. No stopping until you're pregnant."

"Dammit, Sirius! I hate this! I hate being in this position!" She can't stop the tears, and leans into Black's embrace when he puts his arm around her. She can't remember the last time James was there for _her_ ; he lives in a world of his own misery. "I'm tired of being the strong one," she whispers into the folds of Sirius' jacket (it smells like smoke and firewhiskey and faintly of sweat). "I miss having my husband. This James isn't the man I married!"

He smooths down her errant curls, and she doesn't feel insulted at being petted. "I know, Lils," he says, and that's all he needs to say. "I miss my friend, too."

Somehow they contrive to fuck several times a week, always when James is working. Sirius starts taking lunch late, when James is out on call or patrol. After the first time, they're more prepared; Lily keeps a kit with Blood Replenishing potions, healing salves, bandages, and pepper-up potions.

Lily hates seeing the pleasure on Sirius' face transmute into agony every time he comes, as his back is slashed open every time by the curse. She hates the way he grits his teeth and holds on to her until the first spasm of pain is over, then still manages to smile at her encouragingly as she heals the cuts over and over until they fade to match the growing mass of scars marring his back.

She hates knowing that _he's_ paying the price for her own selfishness. And worst of all, she hates knowing that she'll miss it when she does conceive, because she's come to learn how good sex can _be_.

They're still nervous and jump at every noise, but they're careful, never meeting at the same place, never being seen together. Sex with Sirius is just as hard and fast and frantic as it is with James, but _Sirius_ always takes time to kiss her neck where it makes her shiver, caress her breasts in a way that makes her moan. _His_ hands always unerringly find that bundle of nerves that makes her tremble with need. _His_ cock fills and fits her perfectly in a way James' never does, and she wonders, for the first time, if she married the right man. He always asks her if she's OK, even as she's healing his back. She learns to look forward to those furtive interludes; when James scowls at her over the table, she remembers the welcoming smile on Sirius' face. When James fucks her (she can't really call it making love anymore, when he never says 'I love you' and won't look her in the face, as if he expects to see condemnation for his failure written there), she pictures Sirius' lean frame leaning over her, face tender with concern and warmth.

Every morning after her ablutions, she casts a pregnancy detection charm on herself; but she's not sure when she goes from wishing for a positive to feeling relieved each time a negative comes up.

The seasons change, and they become more and more adventurous. On a late summer afternoon they're caught outside when the weather turns; the sudden cloudburst has them drenched to the skin in moments. Sirius laughs at the way Lily's nipples harden in the cold rain, visible beneath the thin white shirt and lace bra she wears; a moment later her shirt and bra are pushed up and rain falls and beads on her bare skin, nipples tightly peaked. He can't resist twisting one between his fingers while he bites gently at the other (he's learned she likes a little roughness, and is more than happy to oblige); she squeals and twists away and he chases her, cornering her against a broad tree, grey-green with damp and moss. "What if I fucked you, out here in the open?" he whispers in her ear, almost drowned out by the thunder, and he is answered when she shudders and slips a hand between them, cupping and squeezing his cock through his sodden trousers.

It's all the answer he needs; in between flashes of lightning he lifts her and pins her against the tree. She wraps her legs around his rain-slick waist and closes her eyes to the rain and lightning; she's caught between the wash of sensation - the thunder rumbles, so near she can feel the peal in her bones, and Sirius groans into her neck, breath hot on her neck as he slides into her. She feels wildly, exuberantly _alive_ , from the bark scraping her back to the cold rain on her face to the hot velvet steel of Sirius' cock fucking her, and when she comes she screams her orgasm. 

In autumn they fuck in a huge mountain of leaves (the leaves are prickly and it is nowhere near as comfortable as one might assume, but Sirius can't forget how she looks, pale skin and russet hair, spread out and blending in with the scarlet leaves). Almost they are seen, but just in time they manage to burrow entirely under the leaves. It's strangely arousing as they wait for the passer-by to continue past, their breath unnaturally loud in each other's ears, struggling to not move. Sirius is buried balls-deep in Lily, and he muffles his groans in her neck when she teases him, clenching around him even as the footsteps draw close and pause near their hiding place. Sweat beads on Sirius' back, but his hands tighten on Lily's hips where he's holding her tight enough to bruise. It feels like an eternity waiting for the unknown person to leave, and when they can't hear footsteps anymore they count, with heartbeats, another long minute before surfacing.

"Minx!" Sirius growls, and he flips her face down, pulling her hips up and sliding back into her with a groan. They've fucked in this position before but it somehow being outdoors makes it seem naughtier, more primal. He lets himself pretend this is more than a temporary arrangement and fucks her hard and fast and deep, filling the air with the sounds of skin slapping and wet, obscene sounds, and his orgasm almost eclipses the now-familiar agony of the fidelity curse.

Afterwords they're flushed and sweaty; Lily's sweater is rucked up around her face and full of leaves and a pine cone somehow made its way into Sirius' trousers. It feels good to laugh and he wishes he had a camera, to capture her flushed face and sparkling eyes as she rolls in laughter while he fishes the offending pine cone out.

For winter they mutually agree to keep their romps indoors, while trying something different. Rough sex is nothing new, but they ramp it up a notch. They experiment with silk rope, hot wax, and handcuffs, but Lily is embarrassed to discover that she likes being spanked. Sirius makes up absurd reasons to 'punish' her (she gives him plenty of opportunities, with her cheeky smile and heated looks), pulling her to lay face-down across his lap, holding her there with his left hand and spanking her soundly with his right. Sometimes he uses a hairbrush and once he uses his belt, but he prefers the intimacy of his hand. He places each blow carefully, just hard enough to sting smartly, and layers them until her backside is heated and glowing red. He experiments with timing, finger-fucking her cunt in between rounds until she's wet and writhing in his lap. Slapping the white globes of her arse and seeing the red hand print form is satisfying, but he learns she jumps even more when he spanks the crease of her thighs and across her nether lips, and feels wetness on his palm from her arousal.

When his hand is tired, they fuck on the floor in front of the fireplace, and she memorises the way the flames flicker and cast strange shadows on his long frame (the scars are so numerous now his back catches the light in odd ways, and almost looks on fire). He bends her nearly in half and fucks her slowly until she begs, breath hitching, for him to fuck her through the floor.

But in spring, everything changes.

*** * * * ***

There's a new dark lord, calling himself Lord Voldemort, and the Aurors are putting in more and more hours. She's terrified that James won't make it back from a mission someday, but she never once thinks that Sirius could be in the same danger; he's always been lucky, always managing to squeak out of a tight spot. But one spring day, Sirius doesn't make it back, and James comes home even more haggard than usual, and tells Lily that Sirius was captured by Death Eaters. "Be prepared for the worst," he tells her bleakly, then refuses to say any more when she asks.

A week trickles by without news. Waiting is horrible for Lily, and every night when James floos home she hopes for news, but each night he shakes his head wordlessly.

The morning of the sixth day after Sirius' disappearance, Lily's detection charm shows positive; she's pregnant with a son. It's what she's desperately wanted for the past few years, but now she just wishes Sirius was safe. She lays a hand over flat stomach, and imagines what she'll look like in her ninth month, then imagines what her son will look like, if he'll look more like her or like Sirius.

On the eleventh day, James tells her he's being sent on a dangerous rescue and recovery mission; he doesn't say who, but Lily can read between the lines: he's going after Sirius. He almost says _I might not make it back_ but he doesn't. Lily almost blurts out her news; she's even starting to feel different. So far it feels like being pregnant is something she dreamed but her breasts are feeling more tender and sore. She knows the news would make James ecstatic, but she has a sudden vision of him becoming giddy and unable to focus on the mission. So she bites her tongue and just nods. 

"Come back safe," she says. He kisses her gently before he leaves, and for the first time in months she sees a spark of the old James. Then he steps back, and she can see him slide visibly into the role of auror; his eyes harden and his jaw sets determinedly.

Then he, too, is gone, and Lily is alone.

After James leaves, she determinedly tackles the housecleaning; all day long she casts cleaning charm after cleaning charm, routs doxies out of the attic, de-gnomes the tidy back garden, washes and irons and rehangs all the curtains, and scrubs the kitchen floor until the linoleum gleams like new.

Mindful of her unborn son, she cooks a simple meal, though just in case she cooks enough for James and Sirius. She puts the leftovers on two plates and puts them in the refrigerator, then washes up the dishes. Then she finds a book - 101 Useful Charms for New Mothers - and curls up on the sofa to wait for James; she keeps a fire lit in the hearth, just in case he tries to floo home.

Around midnight she dozes off, awash in memories of Sirius' hands touching her, the last time they'd fucked on the floor in front of this fireplace, and she wishes that James would come back, and that he'd bring Sirius with him.

A snapping log in the fireplace wakes her around 3 am; blearily she sits up, before she realises there's someone in the easy chair, sitting and watching her. She swallows around a dry mouth, and whispers, "James?"

But it's Sirius sitting there, looking much the worse for wear; there are circles under his eyes and his chin is rough with stubble, and there are bruises under the grime and dust. He looks thinner, too, and he holds himself so stiffly she's sure there are other injuries beneath his clothing. But despite that there's a heat and hunger in his gaze, as if he can't see enough of her.

"James is fine," he answers her unspoken question, "he was injured getting me out, but it's nothing a day in St Mungo's won't fix. The healer said he'd be out by tomorrow evening."

"You're hurt too," she accuses him, "why didn't you stay to be healed?"

He manages a crooked smile that makes her heart ache. "James wanted to make sure you knew he was OK, and that we made it out. I wasn't as bad off as he was, and I owe him my life. He risked everything to save me." The raw anguish in his face is contagious.

She slides off the couch and crawls over to him, laying her head on his knee. "Oh Sirius," she whispers, "what happened? What did they do to you?"

For a moment he tenses, then he places a hand on her head and smooths the tangled curls. She can feel the faint tremor in his hand, and knows that whatever happened, likely the Cruciatus was part of it. But Sirius just sighs gustily. "It's not important. You're safe and I'm safe and James will be OK, and that's what matters."

She lifts her head and studies him silently, then rises to her feet gracefully and helps pull him to his feet, as well. "But you're _not_ OK." Her words are a challenge, an accusation; he stiffens and opens his mouth to protest, but she stops him, raising a hand and pressing her fingers to his lips. "You're _not_ OK," she repeats, "and it's my turn to take care of you." She reaches for his hand and tugs, and he follows unresistingly to the bathroom.

He tries to protest again when she begins to remove his stained, ragged clothing (he looks like an escaped convict, and she hopes to Merlin he's never one in truth, but Sirius has a fondness for bending rules), but he stammers to a halt when Lily glares at him. He feels almost as self-conscious as he did the first time they tried sex; he's filthy and bruised and on the thin side, and he flushes when he sees Lily tear up. "Lily, I - " he begins hopelessly, but she cuts him off.

"Don't! Don't you dare apologise! You have _nothing_ to apologise for!"

Lily joins him in the bath; he silently lets her bathe him, though his breath hitches when she presses her soapy breasts against him and when she brings the soapy flannel to his groin he's fully erect. She doesn't comment, but wraps her hand around his cock and strokes firmly. He feels so _right_ in her hand.

It's over embarrassingly fast and then he's sagging into her as his seed swirls down the drain. "Lils," he murmurs into her ear, as she guides him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.His emotional release follows his physical release. "Lils, it was horrible. I was - I was weak, I was afraid." His voice is almost inaudible, thick with suppressed emotion. She presses close and wraps her arms around him and holds him and lets him speak. "They took my wand and snapped it, then took turns casting Crucio and other curses. I'm amazed I'm still sane - " he shudders in her arms and she tightens his grip. "After a few days of it I promised myself - I promised - if someone, anyone, rescued me. And it was James, _James_ who came for me, after everything I've done - !"

He breaks down then, and for an hour she holds and rocks him as he cries, and for the first time she regrets asking him to father her child. He'd always seemed so strong, so sure, so free of regret, but then, she thinks, maybe he was just being strong for _her_. It's a horrifying thought that haunts her as she gently towels him down and dresses him in a spare set of James' flannel pajamas and tucks him into the bed in the guest bedroom.

As she pulls the blankets up to his chin he tells her, "James saw the scars." Lily tenses, but Sirius continues, sleepily now, "He thought they were from the Death Eaters. I let him believe that. Better that way. But, but I can't do this anymore - " His eyes are pleading for her to understand, and to her surprise, she does.

She brushes a damp strand of his hair away from his face, and wonders if her son will have the same hair someday. "You don't have to anymore," she tells him sadly, and rests one hand on her flat stomach. The gesture tells Sirius what she doesn't say allowed. His eyes widen, and a ghost of a smile brightens his face.

"I'm glad, then," he whispers.

She sits by him until he falls asleep, then tiptoes for the door. But he mumbles something as she's leaving, and it sounds suspiciously like "Love you, Lils." Her eyes are bright with tears as she quietly closes the door behind her.

*** * * * ***

James is, of course, overjoyed to learn his wife is pregnant; almost overnight he becomes the James she knew and fell in love with. He stops avoiding the Weasleys and tells all the other aurors the good news and even floos to Hogwarts to tell Albus and Poppy and Minerva. His former apathy is gone, and he lavishes attention on his expecting wife.

Lily frequently bursts into tears at odd times, often when his fellow Marauders come over to celebrate. "Hormones," she tells them, "just hormones."


End file.
